Poker
by Khait Khepri
Summary: If there was one woman that made him nervous, it was Nicolette D. Wolfwood, the smoking (and smoking hot) nun that liked to flirt with him. And now he had been trapped playing poker with her. VashXFem!Wolfwood, One Shot, Manga-based


Poker

Summary: If there was one woman that made him nervous, it was Nicolette D. Wolfwood, the smoking (and smoking hot) nun that liked to flirt with him. And now he had been trapped playing poker with her. VashXFem!Wolfwood, One Shot, Manga-based

Warnings: Includes some generalized fluffiness and mild sexual references and hints of skin. Also includes a lot of angst which is only natural considering these two.

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He carefully considered the nun across the table from him. She was undoubtedly beautiful with blue-black hair and deep blue eyes that reminded him of the nighttime sky. She had tanned olive-toned skin and a face and figure that made even the most stalwart of men take a second glance as she walked by. Her hair was left in the open and caught at the nape of her neck with a white ribbon. Otherwise it was straight with bangs that were long enough to be swept to the sides and clear of those glorious eyes with their long lashes. Even he, whom had remained celibate his entire life, couldn't help but admire the beauty that was Nicolette D. Wolfwood. Even the cigarette, off-putting in its own right, didn't mar her looks but instead seemed to enhance it like she was one of those old Earth actresses from Hollywood that Rem had shown him and Knives. She had the same beauty that some of those classic stars had. If he had to pick, she reminded him of Elizabeth Taylor when she was young only tanner and darker haired and a slightly more prominent nose. And she had a bombshell figure that left him weak at the knees. The aroma of cigarette smoke that clung to her and that his nose easily picked up on wasn't even a deterrent.

And she was currently sitting across from him, eyeing him with amusement as she negligently held a hand of cards. Her cigarette was unlit, thankfully, and there was an open bottle of whiskey near her elbow. The gigantic gun shaped like a cross wrapped in canvas and belted shut leaned against the wall just behind her and, honestly, Vash wondered once again how such a deviant woman had become a nun. She loved to rile him up and refused to call him anything but 'Needle Noggin' even though he'd protested to the otherwise. The insurance girls, Milly and Meryl, had _nothing_ on Wolfwood, honestly. And he called her that to keep a distance because if he called her 'Nicolette' or even 'Nicki', he'd feel like he'd lost some of his resistance to her charms.

Oh, who was he kidding? Even though Wolfwood was dangerous and had at one time been working for Knives, Vash had to admit the woman could have him on his knees and praying for sanctuary of the Lord above by just crooking her finger at him.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, quirking one excellently shaped brow. "How badly you're losing?" She grinned a bit more and Vash felt a thread of anticipatory fear go through him. "Don't have much in the way of chips left." Woman sat there with a substantial pile before her and he'd lost badly so far because she'd be so kind as to _slip_ a foot up the inside of his calf or lean forward to make the white button-down shirt she wore strain over her ample breasts and give him an _excellent_ look down her front. This was supposed to be a break and one that she had suggested. It wasn't a very good one so far though full of 'entertainment'.

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly. "I don't seem to be doing too well today. Cards are all against me."

"We can still play," she purred, giving him a sultry look.

He looked at her blankly even as she rolled her shoulders, causing that top button to strain. Her current attire was actually a black skirt of full cut that went to her ankles and a white button down that, to Vash, seemed a _bit_ too tight. He could even see the white outline of her bra beneath the cotton and it looked _lacy_.

For a fellow who determinedly avoided sex, Vash was having a hard time keeping his mind out of the gutter with this nun around. He fought to be celibate… He wasn't _dead_. "How so?" he asked, trying to drag his mind away from thoughts of lacy white underwear on dusky olive skin.

It wasn't meant to be. "Well, seeing as I've got such a _good_ hand and all… lose the coat."

"Strip poker?!" he squeaked, blushing as he glanced at the royal flush she laid out in evidence. He only had a trio of threes.

"Yep. Get at it, Needle Noggin." Her grin was predatory and he found his skin reddening further.

"I… I give in. Take the rest of my money. Just…" He stood and halted when he saw her cross had been taken up and shunted across his path. "Wolfwood," he whined.

"I've seen you in the buff before," she drawled, reminding him of the time he'd stripped down to help save Lina from those gang members. "You ain't got nothing I haven't seen before. But if you do good, _you'll_ get to see something you haven't seen before. We've got time and I want to play."

He shifted uncertainly before nodding and sitting down. "Alright…"

"Coat, Needle Noggin." He stood briefly with a sigh, shedding the red bulletproof material. "Go on. You deal."

Vash had superior brainpower and he knew for a fact he actually had more items of clothing on than the buxom woman across the table. To his recollection, she wasn't even wearing shoes at that moment which meant he had both socks and boots over her. Some break this was, honestly, before the big fight with Knives. This couldn't be good for his heart. But he was male… With a smile he didn't really feel, he shuffled the deck and allowed her a chance to cut it. She tapped it once before he started dealing out the cards. Taking up his hand, he noted his selections.

"Out of curiosity," he asked conversationally. "If I win, do I get my money back?"

"Not a chance," she smirked. "That's mine now. You'll only get it back when I'm dead." He cringed at that.

"Don't talk that way," he advised her. _'Not with the very real chance of it coming true.'_

"Fine. I'll take two cards." She discarded two and he dealt her two new ones. There was a moment of silence as he tossed three of his five cards and grabbed up another three. Arranging them, he noted he had a full house.

'_Wow. Lucky me. Wonder what she has?'_ The scowl on her face told him much. "Ah… nothing?" he asked.

"Nope. Damn." She tossed her cards face down and huffed. "What do you have? Must be good 'cause I saw you light up."

"Full house," he told her, revealing his cards. A low one, honestly, but still a full house.

"What should I take off?" His eyes came up, wide and surprised. She smiled at him in that vixen way of hers. "C'mon, Needle Noggin. Don't have all day and it's part of the rules."

"Ah… whatever you want," he abstained. She quirked a brow and then grinned and suddenly Vash wished that she'd worn her usual attire of hose and nun habit even if she didn't wear the wimple. This was _very_ bad for his blood pressure, he was sure, as he watched with embarrassed fascination as she deftly reached down into her shirt and unhooked something between her breasts before unhooking something just over each breast… the straps, he realized. She soon was drawing the lacy thing out without disturbing the shirt she wore and he gulped as her breasts practically adhered to the fabric of the altogether too thin white shirt. Cotton meant little when they were both sweating slightly and he had very little left to the imagination thanks to the way it was all highlighted against the thin fibers… and the fact that her… Um… Well, _they_ were darker than he'd expected. He blushed harder.

"That feels better," she mused, dropping the bra to one side and her bare foot _conveniently_ finding its way against his shin again, toes grasping at leather. "My turn to deal."

She only had three pieces of clothing left. Three compared to his nine if you counted each boot, sock, and glove separately. This was slanted _heavily_ in his favor. Well, maybe two if she wasn't wearing… He shook his head desperately, trying to clear the thought of Wolfwood walking around commando on the ship. It did nothing for his 'other head' though and his pants were getting a bit too snug for his liking.

"Problem?"

Her purr was unsettling and had him on edge. "We probably shouldn't be doing this," he hedged, smiling at her sheepishly. The woman gave a throaty chuckle, one that sent shivers down his spine, and shuffled the cards before dealing them. He honestly wondered what was going through her mind.

Nicolette smiled at the clearly nervous fellow across from her. He was adorable, honestly, and she'd come to treasure him. The first time she'd met him, she'd been amazed at how soft he seemed and he kept being soft. It had broken down some of her long-held beliefs about the world and had weakened her resolve to hate him alongside his brother. Not that she'd stopped hating his brother, though. His kindness had weakened her enough to try and do things his way and to save lives, to back him up at all possible, and when she'd had the barest of thoughts to kill him to lessen some of the destruction of the world… Well, she'd entertained it until he'd smiled that sad smile at her like he'd known what she was thinking and she faltered because she'd never seen anyone smile so sadly. It was like he'd silently said 'I understand' and would have let her try though she knew he would have defeated her handily so he could keep going forward.

For an eighteen year old girl that was a revelation. Nicolette had long known she'd never get out of the Eye of Michael alive. She'd been one of their two successful female protégés and, honestly, she held no illusions about her mortality. Hell, she looked forty years old and she'd achieved that at sixteen. She'd never been through some of the things that other girls got to do. She'd never danced or got asked on a date. She'd knew she'd never be with a man.

But she'd gotten one thing that was for a young girl growing into womanhood and that was her first legitimate crush. She had a crush on Vash the Stampede with all his foolish ideals and stupid beliefs that this world could be better. He was good looking, kind, and sweet as sugar. He was like some fabled knight in shining armor. Logically speaking, she knew exactly why she fell for him. She couldn't help but flirt with him, make him blush and stutter and…

She examined the cards she'd pulled for herself. This hadn't been the best of ideas but Nicolette had the sneaking suspicion she'd die fairly soon and she wanted to be able to say she'd tried at least with _one_ good man. One that didn't look at her like she was a slab of meat to be eaten. Oh, he looked at her that way but it was also clear he held a deference.

'_Maybe I just want to be devoured,'_ she mused, peering over the cards in her hand at the blonde.

Impulsively, she opened her mouth. "Guess how old I am." Those gorgeous eyes came up and looked at her with surprise.

"Huh?"

"Guess how old I am," she repeated. _'What the hell am I doing? Do I want him to know how fucked up I am?'_

A tiny part of her said 'yes'. Because maybe then she who looked twice her age and him who looked an eighth of his might be able to understand each other.

"Um…" He seemed to search for a number that wouldn't offend her. She smiled at his sweetness and knew no matter what he'd hit too high. "Thirty?" He winced. "Or should I have said 'twenty-nine'?"

"Too high, honestly," she offered with a sad smile. "I'm actually younger." He gave her a skeptical look and she tilted her head, feeling the brush of her hair on her cheeks. "Eighteen."

"You look older than that," he stated, considering her.

"I know. I'll be turning nineteen in about three weeks. Thing is, the group of people I belonged to had some fairly advanced… medicine, I suppose you could call it. In order to achieve maximum results, we were strengthened and to heal wounds we sustained we were given a serum that almost instantly repaired our injuries. The downside was the accelerated aging. I was lucky I turned out so pretty."

Silence pervaded as he considered her. She took one of her cards, a two, and ditched it to draw another.

"So… when we met, you were sixteen?"

"Fifteen," she corrected morosely. Lifting her gaze, she saw his sadness. "It's life, y'know. Not always nice and filled with good things. You can understand that." Baring her soul like this…

"Unfortunately," he sighed.

"Anyway, after this, I'm going to have to see about going to December." He stared at his cards. "To the orphanage," she added. _'And I don't think I'm going to be able to make it back. I have this feeling…'_ She shifted in her seat. _'Please, Vash, please… Just touch me like I want just one time so I don't go into death a virgin.'_

The two she'd tossed had given her access to a four which had upped her chances of winning to a trio of fours. Honestly, this game was getting depressing.

"I know what you want." She winced at his somewhat flat tone even as he stood, grabbing his coat. There he went with that knowing too damn much again. "I can't do that, Wolfwood… Nicolette. Excuse me." She found herself on her feet before she realized it, swirling around the edge of the table, and stepping into his path. "Please move," he told her. His eyes were so sad and full of compassion but they were withdrawn. Pained.

Her fingers instinctively went to her buttons, deftly pulling them aside to reveal more flesh than she'd shown anyone outside of the Eye of Michael, more than she'd ever shown anyone willingly. "Just once," she asked. "Just once, I want to be touched, alright?" She could see he was aroused, see that he wanted to reach out, but his stupid, _stupid_ nobility crashed in the way once again.

And then Vash moved and laid aside his coat. He reached out to her with a strange little smile. She dropped her hands in hope, her eyes on a level just a touch shorter than his. But he didn't touch her exposed chest the way she expected. No, he was closing the shirt and buttoning it back.

"I'm not good enough for you," he told her gently, crushing her with his kindness. "Just a monster parading around as a human." She desperately wanted to disagree but her tongue wouldn't let her. She'd thought the same too many times and her sense of pride wouldn't let her lie. Even if he was a monster, though, he was a gorgeous one.

Swallowing thickly, she spoke. Her words came out heavy with rejection and laden with tears. "Even if you're a monster, you've got… You feel like we do, don't you? You love every damn human on this planet. You love everyone." He gave her a slightly crooked smile.

"I try," he admitted. "In honor of her."

"Who?" she asked, feeling a bit of jealousy.

"Rem Saverem. The one that saved us all when we fell to this planet. She was… my adoptive mother, I suppose you could say. She was human like you." Nicolette could see it. She could see his love and devotion to the woman that had died over a century and a half ago. She could see his utter enthrallment with a woman who, no matter what she did, Nicolette would never measure up to. Defeated, she turned her face away. How could anyone compete with the dead?

She picked up her Punisher and moved out of the way.

"Wolfwood," he murmured but she didn't really want her burned pride to be further prodded. She'd been made a fool and… His hand as he touched her chin encouraged her to look at him again. His eyes were somber, sad, and earnest. His hair had darkened so much since she'd first met him and… "Don't get me wrong," he told her. "You're gorgeous… and any man would be lucky to have you. You're better than a lot of people because you try to make the world a better place." Her eyes burned and she felt horror at the sensation. He had obviously seen it and a gentle thumb came to wipe a few of those tears away as they fell free. She wanted to say something… _anything_… Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth and her throat felt tight. She was crying like some child and it didn't fit at all with the careful mask she'd erected to protect herself. Nicolette D. Wolfwood was a sexy, you-can't-touch-this nun that barely was constrained by her 'oaths'. Her choices had been robbed of her when she'd been barely into puberty and now she…

All she'd wanted was to be touched just once and it seemed she'd managed it… but not the way she'd really desired that contact.

"Just go…" Her voice was barely a whisper. He nodded, seemingly satisfied though sad, and went on.

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Beneath that cruelly blue sky, Vash sat next to the gorgeous woman that had once been vivid and alive but had now been broken and was dead. She'd been curled into his side, a bottle of whiskey she'd scooped up in her final moments with a smile on her lips loosely cradled in her lap and steadied with a limp hand as confetti rained down from above. He'd given her that kiss she'd so wanted after the fight with its terrible outcome, wished he'd given her that other thing she'd wanted of him. He sobbed and felt his power well and crackle within him, demanding a release. The inert form of the one woman that had carved a place in his heart right next to Rem remained motionless as he took that horrible, wrenching energy and flung it harmlessly into the sky with a howl of pain as his hair further darkened. It detonated high up, causing Livio's inert form to twitch, the man still alive when such a beautiful woman was dead.

Vash cried, wishing that he'd done more for Nicolette and hating so much had been robbed of her. He cried for the little girl that had grown up far too fast, for the young woman who had been forced a horrid hand in life, and for the warrior that had fought and won against the demons of her past only to die from the wounds and the sheer burnout of that regenerative potion she'd spoken of only once and had taken two of in quick succession from desperation.

Carefully, he stood and gathered her up in his arms. Carefully, he took her inside the abandoned orphanage and laid her upon a couch. Gently stroking fingers down her face, he smoothed the hair away from where it had stuck against bloody wounds that no longer bled freely. Gently kissing her, he murmured his goodbye. Had he only insisted… but she'd gone on before he could stop her and he'd been forced to play catch-up.

"Are you with her now?" he wondered aloud to her unhearing ears, her deep, deep blue eyes closed forever. "Are you with Rem? Please tell me you are. You ought to be in heaven among the angels." Thoughts of all her expressions flickered before his gaze and he sighed in morose remembrance. Glancing to the door, he knew for a fact he ought to go get the man who had fought against his training and his alter ego to give them the chance to overwhelm him.

'_No, he'd been merely a pawn of a boy to those fools,'_ Vash corrected. Hopefully, Livio would be someone that would change, especially in light of Wolf… _Nicolette's_ death. He sighed and thought back to that poker match, how she'd said he'd get her winnings when she died. Maybe she'd known she wouldn't survive.

Maybe he should have given her some of the love she'd desperately wanted from him. What would it have cost him? Nothing except time and she'd known everything about him. He had respected her enough to not stab him in the back. He should have given her what she'd wanted. Perhaps things would have been different now.

He'd have to bury her, more than he'd gotten with Rem. She'd burned up along with the ship she'd been in during atmospheric entry. At least he could bury Nicolette.

Moving wearily, he set to work. Nothing would get done as long as he sat there feeling sorry for himself and there was still much to do.

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Author's Note: The plot bunny of half a minute. The short story that took a couple hours. The thought that a female Wolfwood would be probably more kickass than a masculine one yet gentler at the same time. The fact that anyone with remotely warm blood would be attracted to the mysterious sadness hottie that is Vash the Stampede. Boom. Poker. Strip poker at that after getting to that point in the story. Started one way and then shifted another. Dreamed up and slapped down. No filters other than the fact that self-sacrificing Vash forced a non-sexy scene. I couldn't make him, truthfully, and with him shutting her down, Nicolette didn't even get the half-dreamed thought I'd had of plopping into his lap and kissing him senseless. There's the long-standing joke that Wolfwood only ever had a blowup doll as his 'bedroom partner', the truth is that in the manga he was only eighteen or nineteen when he died, and the fact that he's easily one of my favorite characters made it incredibly easy to write him and, thus, imagine a female version _of_ him. Needless to say, I had fun and I hope you enjoyed even with the depressing end that _just wouldn't be happy no matter how I beat at it_.

**Please review. I always appreciate it.**


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